


A queen for a king

by Ladtheove



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Damian Wayne, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Courtship, Dark Damian Wayne, Falling In Love, Kidnapping, M/M, Omega Jason Todd, Omega Jason Todd Week, Omega Jason Todd Week 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:35:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28039293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladtheove/pseuds/Ladtheove
Summary: Jason gets a secret message from a seven years absent Damian.What could the Assassin Prince want from him?
Relationships: Jason Todd/Damian Wayne
Comments: 28
Kudos: 248





	1. Letter

**Author's Note:**

> Little piece that came out on it's own whoever knows why or how.  
> Hope you like it

He should had known better than to heed one strange missive on the league's ancient code, barely a few words long, that might, or might had not, come from Damian.

But it had been, what, seven years already? If by any chance, small it might be, it was him, Jason had to show at the meeting place. And do so alone. 

Because even a decade since Jason left the shadow he understands the silent part of the message, the nuances of Nanda Parbat's archaic society are not something one can forget. Knows therefore, that he if shows accompanied, no one will meet him. That if he so much as breathes word of this to anyone, chances were none of them would get to meet their wayward kindoff brother again.

Had the writer, whoever it is, wanted the contents known to others, they would had been. That it came to Jason only, in the darkness of night, a luxurious piece of parchment left at the admittedly, miserable, kitchen table, of his last hideout that none should had known to find, said enough.

A secret, a call, and maybe a promise.

That it wasn't signed didn't matter either. Jason knew the elegant handwriting, beautiful enough to shame any academic; Damian.

It could be a trap. But it wasn't likely.  
Had the league wanted him dead, there were other easier ways; say, same as the letter got delivered, they could had planted a bomb. 

So no, this wasn't about his life. Maybe something else he did have, information, or resources, but both were things he was positive the shadow could gain on their own. 

It was more likely this was another matter entirely. He wanted to hope it was Damian finally giving living sign, reaching out after no word for the last seven fucking years, even if, admittedly, from the strangest of corners. But Jason and him had not been all that close before his disappearance, Dick would had been a better choice for that. Hell, even Tim would be better, bad as their relationship had been at first. So...what was really going on?

Whatever it is, he's supposed to know when the time for the encounter comes.

\------------------------

He arrives at the designated place, (a rundown warehouse near the docks), in the darkness of night, nothing to indicate the presence of anyone else besides himself… but the pressure at the back of his head that means he's being watched. 

His right hand itches toward the holster at his thigh, but he doesn't grab for the gun. For now, at least, this is a peaceful encounter, and the assassins he suspects around, shouldn't have reason to attack him.

Inside, there is nothing but ruins; abandoned machinery covered in rust and vandalized by the kids of the neighbourhood, dust thick enough to turn any surface gray, and detritus covering everything from floor to walls…

Looking around reveals an old, rusty, staircase, climbing, half the steps gone, to what seems like the old offices of the factory. The unmistakable traces of boots on the dust over the steps, a clear invitation, if Jason has ever seen one. 

The upper floor, when he steps in, is no better than the first, maybe even worse, with danger brought by sections of putrid wood floors likely to collapse under too much weight. But the mottled walls and broken shelves offer better shadows to hide in than the open space bellow, so Jason supposes he can see the appeal. 

No one likely to enter the warehouse would spot them easily. 

Then, a soft rustle of cloth, and a call;

"Todd" 

Continue


	2. Funny thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talk some

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short second chapter because I don't have much time to write. But hopefully you will find it entertaining at least. 😉

(Jason)

The tone is all wrong, too deep and controlled to be him, but the timbre, the careful enunciation of someone whose first language was not english despite the perfect learning of it, echoes Damian. It could be him, it could be someone else entirely.

He turns toward the sound and there's a very tall man among the shadows, as tall as Bruce, and definitely a good five centimeters taller than Jason. It's not that easy to find men taller or broader than the Hood, even with him being an omega, so it's actually a bit of a surprise, or would be, in the off chance this is really the missing Robin, and not some member of the League with unknown business tied to him. 

Jason has always thought the demon brat would end shorter than the Bat, judging by how small he had been as a teenager, and the fact Talia is not that tall. But the kid must had been eating damn asteroids with his cereal, or Bruce's genetic gift just manifested latter than expected, because when the man leaves the cover of the deeper shadows to meet Jason, it's impossible not to recognize who he is in the blade of his jaw and proud nose, the full lips, and those almond shaped, poison green, eyes, that are all his mother's. 

Damian.

An older, fully grown, version of him. Tall, broad shouldered, strong and dangerous.   
Well, Jason amends, he's always been dangerous, there's no way a son of Talia wouldn't be, but it's an awareness that has never been worn like this. 

Damian, as a young boy, had been a snotty bastard; harsh, prideful, aggressive, and likely to show to everyone around, why, exactly, it wasn't a good idea to play him, no matter the other party's disposition. It was a hell of an armour, but armour nonetheless. That implies you need to guard yourself. Jason would know, he spent his whole infancy and teenager years doing the exact same thing. 

The man Damian has grown into... doesn't need to act it. 

He's dangerous in the way poisonous snakes are, calm, steady, and carrying with him that fuzzy, subconscious, alert, that lights the brain of everyone who has faced one; the understanding that there's something potentially lethal resting there, and it would be stupid to test it's patience.

It does nothing to ease the impression that the missing Robin has come dressed for battle. 

Deep, near black, green body armor, accented in gold, (the colours of the royal Al Ghul family), and more weapons that even Hood carries for patrol; the sister katanas at his back are gorgeous masterpieces, and Jason thinks if this wasn't Damian he would try to steal them. 

A bit overkill for a family reunion, carrying those, not that he hasn't come fully armed too, just in case this was an elaborate setup, and things went tits up. 

But at least he has had the manners to shed his more distinctive gear before coming; no red painted bat chest plate or helmet. Broadcasting that he understands this is not a Red Hood bushiness, and so, expects there won't be violence happening, but not foolish enough to come unharmed. 

Damian on the other hand wears proudly his pack colours… only a warrior who expects a fight chooses to broadcast his lineage so openly in a reunion with another family's member. 

It doesn't bode well for today's meeting.

But hell, Jason has never been all that good at heeding warnings, and he has a lot of questions to ask.

"Damian" he greets back, and that's where all his politeness goes down the drain. "Where the fuck have you been?" 

The brat looks at him, arches at brow at his rudeness, and answers calmly, as if he had asked with a perfectly sweet smile and not the near growl used. In the past the kid would have bristled.

"With mother."the unshakable facade feels like something inherited from Bruce, it has the same flavor of irritating. 

"Look, I'm not going to bitch at you for choosing mom over dearest batdad. He's a bastard. But maybe you could have, I don't know, left a note at least. Do you have any idea how much Dick has been crying about the whole ordeal? It's downright shameful." He runs his mouth, because that's what he does when he feels unsettled or threatened, and this reunion is fast falling into the former and maybe a touch of the latter. He doesn't like the way Damian is looking at him. 

It feels appraising and haughty, the way a rich asshole would look at the shiny assortment exposed in some big branch, jewelry, store. 

"I didn't see how knowing where I was headed might had changed anything." Answers, and the words have as much feeling as a fucking brick. 

That burns at Jason like sandpaper to baby flesh. He is one for sudden escapades too, but at least he has the sense to leave word for Oracle at least, so the whole pack doesn't come hunting him the moment he's absent from patrol three days in a row. 

"Ok, fuck you! For one those morons care. Heaven knows why." He bites out "Might at least have the courtesy to say bye before ditching them, so the rest of us doesn't have to deal with the constant whining for the next couple of years " 

At least now they know for sure the brat had been with Talia all along, not that the pack had not suspected. Where else would he have been? The problem was Talia is a ghost when she wants to be, nearly impossible to find unless she chooses to let herself be found, and she hasn't wanted to for the last seven years. Whatever she did to Damian in that time… 

Jason might be the only one in the pack with any idea of what that might have been like, trained as he had been by the league under her command, back when he was raised from the pit. But even that experience is like a paper thin reference at best. 

Talia trained Jason to be good enough to go against Batman if that was what he wanted, what he needed to settle that green rage she gave him in exchange for his memories. And look at what he did… nearly blowing Bruce to bits and short of eviscerating Tim, rise as a crime lord, gather a dozen heads into a duffle bag… terrorizing half of Gotham like a fucking nightmare in hunt of evil…

Jason was a half baked experiment pulled to prod at Bruce's weak points. 

Damian has been raised to become a king. 

Whatever Jason was trained for, taught for, cannot be compared to what Talia would have put her son through…

Starts wondering how much of the kid they knew was still around inside the icy bastard. 

It's looking more and more like coming alone was one hell of a fucked idea. 

"It had to be a clean cut. No word, no trail, nothing left to fester" the Al Ghul heir talks about it with the kind of cold calmness doctors use for a cancer successfully removed. 

It pulls Jason's feelings all wrong. He would have understood rage, hate, hell, even sadness. But this freezing logical approach… 'What the fuck' he thinks. 'WHAT THE FUCK?!' 

"So what, one day you woke up and thought; sure, let's leave these useless weights behind, why not? WHY?!" He rages. If Jason were a bit of a better man he would have tried to pry with gentler tactics, maybe invite him to a cup of coffee before asking anything potentially torny. But he's a shitty human being, so he goes at it like a wrecking ball.

No one that he knows of, has an inkling about why the brat left. It would be nice to at least put that one to rest. Dick might even stop moping around like an abandoned puppy. 

"You should know Todd."and when green Lazarus's eyes fall on him with cold, precise, understanding, he knows what's coming. "Father's methods are ineffective. Evil cannot be contained in neatly packed cages, it has to be purged. Put down. So it doesn't taint everything around" 

Jason laughs and laughs and laughs. 

It's a vicious, sad, kind of funny. A total mess. Bruce's blood son echoing Jason's logic back to him, like a joke from karma. All the effort B put into teaching morals to the kid, and this is what it all amounts to. 

Damian doesn't seem to get the punch line, looking at him with the same kind of benevolent exasperation Bruce would use. It kind of sets Jason off again, makes stopping an actual effort.

"Woah kid, that's real sweet of you. Congrats on getting the way of the world." Pats him on the shoulder. "So what, calling me to share tips on getting the job done?" Damian didn't call him because he wanted to contact the pack again, that much was clear. So why then?

"I have come to take you as my mate" 

Continue


End file.
